


and we blur together

by or-ng-c-ss-dy (o_r_ng_c_ss_dy)



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Alcohol, Frottage, Light Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_r_ng_c_ss_dy/pseuds/or-ng-c-ss-dy
Summary: a haze of heat and bourbon, and far too many feelings for chuck to write off.
Relationships: Chuck Taylor/Orange Cassidy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	and we blur together

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this one for a little while, writing and rewriting segments. but i like how it turned out, so here it is. enjoy!

Feeling warm from the cheap bourbon, Chuck let out a soft sigh and buried his face into the still reddened skin of Orange’s bare back. He could smell the cheap motel soap and the underlying hint of salt from his sweat, and it wasn’t a pleasant scent mixed with the shitty motel but it didn’t matter much to him at all.

Not really, not when it was Orange.

There had only been one bed in the motel, but neither of them were particularly worried as they tended to migrate into the same bed regardless when alcohol was involved. When everything between them could just exist without having to worry about what it meant, when he could brush his fingers down that muscled back without thinking that Orange might flinch away.

Chuck could touch him without fear. Through the liquored haze and the glow of the lights above, the lights that they were both too lazy to get up and turn off the light. Instead, they dozed together in that liquid, half-awake, half-asleep sort of state, drifting and floating in that satisfied state.

He could take chances when they were like that together, brushing his knuckles along Orange’s bare hip. Chuck didn’t dare ask if he was awake, his voice wouldn’t come out of fear of snapping that languid moment between them.

They never put a name to it. Orange would either turn over or he wouldn’t, and that would be that. 

Orange’s skin was hot under his hand. For a brief, dumb moment, Chuck was worried that they’d melt together as he rested his palm low on his hip. He could feel Orange shake slightly under his touch, and it was a comfort in some way to know that neither of them really knew what they were doing.

Chuck couldn’t even begin to wonder what Orange was thinking, he wouldn’t even know where to start. Not when his own thoughts were running a mile a minute, when he couldn’t parse himself out. The only coherent thought he had was that he just wanted to keep touching Orange, and that he wanted to make something out of what was between them.

If not for the low buzz and harsh rattle of the thing, he’d think that the air conditioner in their room was broke from the oppressive heat that had settled between them. But it was working, albeit poorly, the heat building between them couldn’t be blamed on anything else.

It was all them. And, as Orange started to slowly turn over, Chuck nearly choked on the breath that he didn’t even know he was holding onto. It whistled out of him in a way that was nearly painful, like he had just been punched in the gut by the sight of Orange’s blown wide blue eyes.

He thought that Orange looked beautiful in the swimming haze of heat and bourbon, and he thought that he might tell him that some day. Instead, he looked down at Orange as he laid on his back, staring back up at him, and leaned down to kiss him before he lost his nerve.

Chuck had lost his nerve before, staring down at Orange like that. In other motels, shitty in ways that blurred together, during other times, the same and different in every sort of way. When he wanted to kiss him but found ways around it, around himself and his own desires. He always wanted it, but he convinced himself that he was mistaken in some way. But, as he tasted the combination of orange juice and bourbon on Orange’s tongue, he knew that it was right in all the ways that mattered, and that all the ways that it was wrong didn’t matter at all in that moment.

He wanted to say that he’d never lose his nerve again, but he thought that it probably wasn’t true. There was always that part of him that would overthink everything.

It was true, he was an overthinker by nature, but he let the feeling of Orange’s fingers curling into the hairs at the back of his neck shut his brain off, his own hands cupping his face in a way that was almost a little too delicate. Orange wasn’t going to break, he wasn’t fragile like Chuck felt on even some of his best days, but he still worried about doing something to shatter the moment.

Orange drew him out of his head, the place he got stuck in the most, tugging him until he got the picture and straddled his hips. He broke the kiss to look down at him, his shadow turning the blue of Orange’s eyes into molten silver. 

He thought that Orange looked beautiful in that same swimming haze of heat and bourbon, and he knew that he’d never be able to say it out loud unless he could be honest with himself in ways that scared him so deeply.

Orange’s hands pushed under his shirt, hands hot enough against his skin that Chuck gasped into the plush heat of his mouth, eyes rolling up slightly. They were kissing but just the slightest touch was enough to get him hot and needy in ways that would keep him up at night later, already getting added to those embarrassing moments.

“Off.” Orange murmured against his mouth, a wry smile playing at the corner.

He chucked, drawing back from Orange hesitantly. A part of him always worried that, if he put distance between them, Orange would change his mind. That he’d see right through any confidence that he put up and not like the mess he found under it all.

But Orange was messy in the same ways, and that was something he had to remind himself about every time they did something like that together. That they were fucked up in that same way, he just liked the way it looked on Orange a hell of a lot better.

The heat didn’t dissipate between them, Orange was still looking at him like he was something worth looking at in that way that made him feel almost a little nauseous. It was too much without the usual barrier of sunglasses, but his aviator shades were tucked away on the worn wooden nightstand, unguarded eyes staring up at Chuck like he wanted him.

“You just wanna get me naked.” Chuck joked, trying to lighten the strange weight in the pit of his stomach.  
“Yeah.” Orange replied, completely serious in a way that had him reeling again.

He was done overthinking. He couldn’t let his brain get in his own way anymore, not when Orange was looking up at him like that, hands still rucking up Chuck’s shirt in that endearing lazy way of his. So he sat up, peeling his shirt off of him and tossing it into a space that didn’t exist in his brain anymore. Because the only place on Earth that existed was that lumpy mattress that he had Orange laid out on.

A part of him wanted to ask Orange what he wanted, but Orange seemed to read his mind and answer without having to speak. He pulled his hands off of Chuck’s skin and reached down to fumble with his jeans. Chuck responded in kind, kicking out of his own sweatpants until he was throwing both his pants and boxers into that same nebulous space that was the rest of their motel room.

It was strange, being naked in front of Orange. It would never not be strange, no matter how many times they had fooled around. Just infrequent enough to make him have those big match nerves that came along with something he was trying out for the first time, yet starting to get a little too frequent to write off as something that he was just trying out. They had shared many locker rooms together, but it was different when those eyes were burning holes into his bare skin, actually seeing him on purpose.

He felt like he might collapse under the weight of that stare, but Orange was licking a stripe up his palm and circling his hand firmly around Chuck’s half-hard cock, and he felt like he was going to collapse in an entirely different way.

Orange’s hand was a little rough, a little callused in a way that was unmistakable and familiar. Not that he’d want to mistake him for anyone else, but it was hard to drift away into places that were simultaneously ideal and less than ideal, the thought that it was anyone but Orange Cassidy who was stroking him from root to tip until he was hard and heavy in his hand.

He knew the calluses on Orange’s hand like they were his own, a thought that made him realize that it wasn’t something that he could write off as infrequent.

How many nights had they spent wrapped up in each other, a haze of adrenaline and alcohol, motel rooms that blended together? When he failed to pick some random girl up at one of the shows, when he just didn’t bother because he met Orange’s eyes from across the bar and knew that he had a sure thing waiting for him. The enticing familiarity of someone who knew just how to get him off, someone he knew in a town full of people that he didn’t.

He couldn’t ignore the fact that it was better like that, better than some imperfect stranger that he’d never see again, someone that he’d have to worry about disappointing. Because he didn’t have to worry about disappointing Orange, no matter what he did.

Yeah. There was a frequency to what they did together in those shitty motel rooms.

Chuck reached down, sliding his fingers around Orange’s fully erect dick and stroking him in time with those lazy strokes, the ones that were driving him just a little mad. Orange let out a small moan, eyelashes fluttering from the pleasure.

What they were doing, in the only place on Earth that existed in his mind, it was undeniable. The feeling of Orange’s body quivering under his, he could help but grin down at Orange. Orange huffed out a soft laugh between his moans, smiling up at him. Shifting his hips slightly, he laced their fingers together and squeezed, creating a tighter passage for them to fuck into together

He couldn’t help but wonder what Orange thought about it, about him. What he thought of when he looked up into Chuck’s face, it made him feel self-conscious in a way that nearly had him wincing despite the pleasure coursing through his body like a live wire. He was suddenly very worried that he was making a stupid face, the one that a girl he fucked a few times in college called his constipated face, effectively killing the moment and searing it into his brain all at once. He had liked her too, thought about dating her even, but she had become associated with a part of himself he hadn’t even noticed until she pointed it out. The dumb faces he thought he might make, the disgusted twist of her lips that he expected to see mirrored on Orange’s face at any moment.

But Orange was gasping and twisting under him, sucking his kiss-bruised bottom lip between his teeth as he looked right up at him, so Chuck figured that he didn’t think the view was all that bad.

Besides, Orange wasn’t like that girl he fucked, the one that fucked him over. Hell, he wasn’t like any of the women he had been with, dated or otherwise. He was...he was Orange, and it was a hell of a lot easier to be with Orange than it had been to be with any of them.

Orange was looking up at him like he was something worth looking at, eye locked firmly on his face. Chuck couldn’t help but wonder, incredulously, why someone like Orange was hanging around with a guy like him, something he wondered even when he wasn’t on top of him. But Orange was looking at him without the barrier of his sunglasses, eyes unguarded and honest, and he figured that he had to be something and maybe that could be enough.

It had to be enough.

He wasn’t a good person but Orange knew that, because Orange probably wasn’t that great of a guy either. Chuck had seen him at his best but he’d seen him at his worst too, all the parts of each other that were passed back and forth like a secret. When they tried to change for the better, fold themselves up to try and fit into the slot of decency that had always been a little too far out of reach.

All the worst parts of himself, open and raw and on display, but at least Orange was built the same way. 

So, maybe he could be something worth looking at. At least for as long as Orange seemed content to do it, and he hadn’t gotten tired of it so far.

And maybe he should pay more attention to the Orange that existed in real life, the one squirming under him, panting out soft encouragement to the hand that had stilled.

“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?” Orange huffed out, wry smile spreading out across his lips.

Chuck could tell Orange what he was thinking, why he had gotten lost in his own head. But it was easier to take the out that Orange was giving him, the easy explanation. 

For the second time that night, he thought that he needed to get out of his own head and act on his own interests without overthinking.

So he gave a wide grin in return, stroking them together slow enough that Orange was actually bucking up into the almost-too-dry friction of his torturous hand, looking for more without having to beg.

It wasn’t his intention to have Orange ask for it like that, but they were both willing to read his own indecisive mind as something a little more decisive.

“Can’t help myself, you beg so pretty.”  
“Shut up. No I don’t.” Orange said, a wry grin blowing his spot clean up into the air.  
“Do too.” Chuck replied, huffing out a laugh as he slowed his pace down to a crawl.

He let his hand slow until it was practically stopped, the barest hint of movement. It was torturous to himself too, but the almost pained look in Orange’s eyes made it worth it. Anything to sell the idea that it wasn’t his own indecisiveness that had made it happen, full commitment to the bit that Orange had delivered to him on a silver platter.

Chuck was going to make Orange beg for something that he had been prepared to just deliver in a way that was fast and dirty. His own brain was the one that drew it out, and now he was just going to let it be more than a quick hook-up to save face. Another line they hadn’t crossed, the thing between them being more than just a means to an end. Born out of not being able to get laid, becoming that unspoken first choice.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried to hook up with a woman, couldn’t remember the last time he saw Orange trying to pull either. He couldn’t even pretend that it was failure when he knew that you couldn’t fail something you hadn’t even tried. When Orange was the best damn thing in the entire bar and he couldn’t bring himself to try to deny it anymore.

He wanted Orange. And a part of him only wanted Orange. At least when he was at some shitty bar in some shitty town, in another haze of shitty bourbon and filth, it was more than just the sure thing.

But he couldn’t even begin to form the words to articulate the wild thoughts that ran through his head. He couldn’t tell Orange that he thought he was beautiful when it was so obvious to anyone that looked at him, how the hell was he supposed to tell him that he was the only choice without it coming out like him saying that he was the easy option?

Orange’s lips finally moved and he missed the words he said. Once again, he found himself wrapped up tight in his own thoughts.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Orange rolled his eyes and Chuck forced an easy grin to plaster itself over his face, leaning down to rest their foreheads together.

“Please. More, Chuck.” He gasped out into the air between them, each of those short words like a heated punch to the gut.

Who was he to ever resist Orange Cassidy? He’d certainly done a real shit job at ever denying him before and, with those pretty lips begging, he couldn’t help but start to stroke him faster and faster. Maybe it was a little greedy to tilt down and capture those lips in another heated kiss, but Orange returned it with a nearly feverish pace and that had them both moaning into it.

The sound of Orange moaning was another thing to add to the list of things that made him so fucking beautiful, the breathy sounds muffled against Chuck’s mouth. Along with the way he fucked into the hand circling his cock, the feeling of him sliding against his own achingly hard dick, it felt too good for something that was just supposed to be two guys helping each other out.

A part of him wanted more. And another part of him could hardly articulate what that meant. Instead, he continued to stroke them together until Orange was quivering and gasping under him.

He figured that, for once, he was going to be greedy. Grinning, he broke the kiss just to hear those little sounds. The ones that he had tried so hard to not get familiar with, the ones that he was finally going to let himself want to hear. Chuck was going to let himself want and he was going to try to not get embarrassed about it.

“Oh god, Chuck,” Orange panted out, eyes practically rolling back into his head, “I-I’m close.”

He was stammering. Honest to god stammering, and Chuck couldn’t do anything but dumbly nod his head, letting Orange fuck up into his fist. He was almost too in awe of the man pinned under him to even think about chasing his own orgasm, at least for a little while. He wanted to watch Orange cum first and, from the way his hips twitch up into his hand, he knew that Orange was getting closer and closer.

It only took a few more moments for Orange to cum, a sharp gasp and a choked off moan that had him reeling. He looked down into the space where their bodies connected just in time to see a rope of hot, white cum splatter over those perfect fucking abs. Chuck’s lips gaped open at the sight, eyes locked onto that flushed cock as Orange got his release, painting his skin until he was finally spent.

It was fucking perfect. And almost good enough to finish him off as well.

Chuck stroked him through it until he was finally done, drawing his hand back and leaving him to slowly grow soft against the flat plane of his stomach. But a part of him wasn’t satisfied with his own hand, not when he was still hard, still chasing his own orgasm.

He needed more. Something that he hadn’t allowed himself to think about, something that he wasn’t even sure Orange would let him do. But he couldn’t stop the thoughts from entering his brain, the parts that other people did. The parts that they hadn’t even talked about.

But he pushed on Orange’s hips until he got the picture, rolling back slightly. Chuck adjusted himself and pushed slowly until the ruddy head of his cock pressed up against that tight little ass. He couldn’t help himself, starting to rut against that ass and catching the rim of his hole with his cock in a way that made Orange let out a broken sounding moan.

The idea of fucking Orange had entered his mind and now he couldn’t leave it alone. Couldn’t get the thought of it out of his head, sliding into that tight heat for the first time, crossing that line that they hadn’t dared to cross. Snapping his hips forward, he fucked against his ass in a way that wasn’t exactly satisfying, but the idea had possessed him, his own mind running the show as he stared down and imagined the way that their bodies would connect.

What would it feel like to slide into him? Press in and in and _in_ , until he was buried deep inside of the parts of Orange that he’d never let himself think about. The parts that he couldn’t help but think about when he had Orange rolled up under him. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, inelegant and panting as he started to really lose control, grinding himself between Orange’s ass cheeks.

Chuck wanted it so bad that it was starting to hurt. And he let himself want it too. For once, he let himself want something without stopping himself to think about all the ways it could go wrong. And it could go wrong, of course it could. But he was going to let himself want it, let himself chance a look to see if Orange wanted it too, without thinking about what it might look like to see if Orange wouldn’t let him in.

Because Orange always tended to surprise him in the ways that counted.

So he let himself look up, between Orange’s slightly spread thighs to let himself see his face. 

Orange looked as out of his element as Chuck felt, surprise written on his face, but he didn’t look scared or uncomfortable at all. Rather, he looked...wanting. Like he wanted Chuck to tilt him up and slide right into his ass, cock trying to twitch to life against his stomach. The blissed out expression on his face had turned a little hungry, a greedy set to his lips, eyes hooded, cheeks flushed. His mouth fell open, a wordless string of moans dripping out like that shitty, leaky faucet in the bathroom. 

Chuck wanted to, wanted to barrel over that line. He was willing to throw it all to the wolves just to feel Orange tight around his cock. But the movement of his hips was growing too erratic, he wasn’t going to last long enough to find out what it might feel like, never mind the fact that they didn’t have lube. 

Instead, he gave one last thrust of his hips against Orange’s ass and came in sticky spurts over his cheeks and hole. Chuck let out a string of curses, pushing against him and riding out his orgasm, shuddering as Orange’s hand came up to stroke him through it until he was finally emptied out.

Almost without thinking, he lifted a shaking hand, smearing cum over Orange’s hole with his thumb and pressing in just slightly. The slickness of his gathered cum made his thumb slide in easily, and they gasped in unison, Chuck’s eyes fixed on the sight before him as his cock made a last ditch effort to get hard again, lurching even as it had started to grow limp.

He wanted to fuck Orange so bad that it was almost a need, almost enough to get him hard again. 

Instead, he forced himself to pull his thumb out, wiping his hand on the cheap sheets that had crumpled under them and collapsing next to Orange. He shifted himself up onto his side, blue eyes staring into Chuck’s own eyes in that unwavering way. And Chuck didn’t look away for once, tilting their heads together and laughing softly, fondly.

He never thought of the next time between them, but he couldn’t help but make plans for once. He had gotten a taste of something and he was going to cash in, fingers sliding up to stroke through Orange’s sweaty hair.

For once, there was no uncertainty. No worrying about there not being a next time, because there was going to be a next time. Something had shifted between them and Chuck knew that Orange felt it too, staring into his eyes and grinning.

He’d be ready for their next time, ready to finally open his mouth and say all of the words that he’d never let himself say, ready to barrel over that edge with no thoughts about consequences. Because consequences made them sound like something dirty and forbidden, and he couldn’t help but be tired of feeling like his desires were inherently wrong.

There was nothing wrong with the way he felt about Orange. He didn’t even have to force himself to think that way, there was just nothing inherently wrong in that soft fondness, in that harsh edge.

He wanted Orange in any way that mattered, even the ways that felt like they might hurt. 

Maybe in the morning, when the haze of alcohol and loneliness cleared away to leave the stark reminder that there was life outside of those four shitty walls, Chuck might not find him as beautiful. Maybe he’d see the ugliest parts of Orange, reflecting the ugliest parts of himself, the worst bits that could only be softened by dim lighting and cheap bourbon.

There was a lot that he wasn’t sure about but, in some ways, that was a comfort. Because there was no telling how he’d wake up in the morning, a hangover plastering him to his own side of the bed like he was glued there or wrapping Orange up tight enough that he was worried that he might leave permanent fingerprints.

But he figured that it could go either way, and that was a hell of a lot more than he used to ever be able to admit. And he was finally able to see more than just the worst possible scenario between them.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! follow me on tumblr if you want, @ [ or-ng-c-ss-dy](https://or-ng-c-ss-dy.tumblr.com/), i also post my fics there.


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